Hey Brother, Do You Still Believe In Me I Wonder?
by ItstheBookworm
Summary: Sometimes, Jason questions. Questions if he's really a part of his family. Questions if his family, his siblings, still care for him. Questions if they could ever care for a monster, a villain. It's not often he questions, but this time his siblings caught on. Continuation of my Batman's Secret Army series.


It wasn't often that Jason questioned his relationship with his siblings. Even when he was younger he was the odd one out, the loner, the brash one that didn't listen to anyone except Alfred. When he finally took up the mantle of Robin, shedding the Bluejay title that was really just a codename for whenever they had to reference him around people not in the know, he felt he truly had a purpose. A purpose to be better than Dick when he first started. But soon he realized that he was stuck in Dick's shadow. Angrily he began to lash out, on the villains around him. Cass seemed to understand, she always did, but the others slowly shunned him.

Then, lying on the cold floor of the warehouse beaten and bloody, he truly questioned what he was to his family. As the timer counted down a truth began to dawn on him. The red numbers blinked, his eyesight fading, as he sagged forward. It hurt, knowing the truth. Knowing that he was the expendable sibling. The one that no one cared for. If they cared they would have come with him to meet Sheila, but they hadn't. They had let him go, alone. Right into the Joker's hands. No one was coming for him. So Jason died that night. Alone. With the knowledge that his death would mean nothing to him.

Harsh breaths, broken nails, bleeding, dirty, Jason Todd dug himself out of his own grave. All he had was animalistic instincts and Bruce's name on his lips. None of his family found him. But Talia did. He was plucked out of the streets of Gotham, with none of his family the wiser. Dumped into the Lazarus Pit and his mind restored to him. There was an autopsy scar on his chest that stubbornly refused to heal and a J on his cheek.

Newspaper clippings and blurry photos were the only things he got for his family. Timmy joined the Young Justice team, having taken up the Robin mantle, with Barbara as Batgirl. Then there was Dick, Nightwing, and leading the Team on his own. Occasionally he would get a picture of them as civilians. Terry had grown so much, standing besides Stephanie and practically hiding in the folds of her dress. Tears blurred his vision and he questioned whether or not they truly needed him. Maybe he could hide in the League of Shadows, never face them again. Damian had grown as well, looking more like Bruce as the days went on.

One day Jason broke out, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind him. In his hand he tightly clutched a newspaper clipping and a picture of his family as civilians. Tears were blurring his visions, even as blood dripped from his fingers and face. There was no way he could return. The blood lust was too strong. Besides, wouldn't it be best if they thought he was dead? He was a monster now. The picture was stuffed into his pocket, a few bloody fingerprints staining it.

Then he couldn't withstand the draw to Gotham City any longer. Donning the title of Red Hood, he slowly grew in the ranks of Crime Lord. Obviously he couldn't stay hidden for long and soon Batman, Bruce ( _Dad_ a traitorous voice whispered in his head), appeared with Robin, Tim ( _Little Brother_ the same traitorous voice cooed), by his side. It was only due to the mask they couldn't see the tears dripping from his eyes as they called him a villain. There were a few times he nearly slipped up, as they fought, before he managed to get away. That night he cried himself to sleep, wishing to be with his family right now. They thought he was a villain, he couldn't go back now.

They were on the tv again, which was normal, and Jason couldn't take his eyes away from Terry. The baby wasn't a baby anymore. Still camera shy, clinging to Dick's leg. Damian, a scowling preschooler, was glaring at anyone that looked at Terry. It brought back some unwelcome memories and Jason buried his head in his hands. That night he got drunk and when he woke the next morning with a hangover, he found himself with a tattoo over his heart of a Robin with it's wings spread in flight. Tears blurred his vision.

It wasn't surprising that Bruce figured out who he was. What was surprising was how long it took him. A little over a year after Red Hood appeared on the streets and Bruce finally learned his identity. It was the night of his death, the first night since he first came to Gotham. Well, the first night he truly remembered about it. In a sense of irony he was standing above his grave, staring at the wording on it.

"Jason?" Bruce asked, suddenly by his side.

"Took you long enough old man," Jason replied, the helmet tucked under his arm.

In another time, another world, this interaction would be difference. But this world isn't that world. In this world Jason grew up with all his siblings, taken from the streets almost immediately after his mother died. While he still stole the tires off the batmobile, it was at an earlier time. This Bruce and Jason had grown close, even if this Jason still was harsh and rude, which gave Bruce a better understanding of his son.

"Come home Jason," Bruce said.

"Home?" Jason scoffed, "What home is left for me? I've murdered people Bruce. I'm legally dead."

"You still have a home. You should see Terry, he's grown so much."

Jason turned away, hiding the tears that were beginning to form. There was nothing left for him at home. Why would they want a murderer? Someone that murdered because of the want, not the need. It was easier. He took the easy way out. A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, looking at Bruce with eyes that were closer to the lazarus pit than to the sky. The dye in his hair had long since faded away, leaving a dark auburn with the white stripe. A leftover from the lazarus pit. It had touched him in so many ways. He was not the same Jason.

"Please, come home," Bruce begged.

"Yeah… okay," Jason agreed, the fight leaving him.

Which brings us to where we are now. The entire family, sans adults, sprawled across the living room. Taking up the couch was Jason, spread eagle like with Terry happily settled on his chest. Despite how much he had grown in the three years since Jason had disappeared, he still fit there comfortably. Somehow Terry remembered who he was, despite not even being a year when Jason died. Then there was Dick on the armchair upside down, Damian sitting on the plush seat and scowling at the older. Cass was curled up in a tight ball on the loveseat, Steph leaning against her. Then there was Tim, sitting at the girl's' feet as Steph played with his hair. It was getting rather long. Lastly Barbara, visiting, sitting at the foot of the couch.

It was comfortable, the silence. Or as silent as it gets with a movie playing in the background. No one was paying attention to it, as they had all figured out how it would end. It was fairly obvious, if you knew how to find it. All of them were raised by the World's Greatest Detective, which made it fairly obvious.

"Who was supposed to make the popcorn again?" Stephanie asked.

Instead of replying, Jason twisted his head to look at her. As a response Cass silently touched her shoulder, an eyebrow risen. It was Cass' way of saying that Stephanie had been put in charge of the popcorn. The popcorn had burnt however so they trashed it and didn't try again.

"Oh…" Stephanie muttered.

"This movie is trash," Tim piped up.  
"That's not how you use a sword," Dick agreed.

"Tt, that's not even humanly possible," Damian snapped.  
"Big words for preschooler," Jason said.

"Shut up Todd, you weren't even there."

Everyone paled, Terry clutching Jason tighter. Instead of growing pale, like his siblings, Jason felt himself getting defensive and angry. Hands curled into fists and he ground his jaw together. Hitting Damian would resolve nothing, only making him angrier. A low growl escaped his throat, even as his vision tinted red.

"Kinda difficult to be there when you're _dead_ Damian," Jason hissed.

At least Damian had the resolve to look somewhat regretful. Still angry and worried about doing something he'd later regret, Jason got to his feet abruptly. One arm wound around Terry to keep him from falling. Feet stomped against the ground and he dropped Terry on Tim's lap as he passed. The second he was out of the room he heard the others berating Damian, who was responding defensively. But Jason found it difficult to breath and threw open the backdoors before heading outside.

It was dark, the stars twinkling brightly above his head. Cool air brushed against his bare skin in welcome. Jason tucked his hands into his pockets and strode through the garden. A few solar lights were on, casting light onto the pathway as he walked down it. Most flowers were closed right now, but Jason walked towards the center of the garden where the flowers were still open. Here there was a bench, in the same vintage style as the manor itself, that Jason plopped himself down on. In the garden around him there were four o'clock flowers, moonflowers, and tropical night blooming water lilies. The most common color in this garden was the red of the four o'clock flowers and water lilies. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the anger began to lessen with the scent of the flowers. Tension bled out of his body as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting it he breathed in the toxic smoke before blowing it out in front of him.

Hand shaking some, Jason pulled out the family picture stained with his bloody fingerprints. The picture perfect family. A snort escaped him as he held the smoldering cigarette between his fingers. Smoke wafted up into his face as he looked at the picture, before moving to stare at the newspaper clippings in his hands. All of them about Batman, Robin, Batgirl, Black Bat, and the Wayne Family. These were also stained with blood, from the night he escaped the League of Shadows.

"You know that's bad for you Jaybird," Dick said, coming up behind him.  
"You know I've already died once before. A cigarette ain't gonna do much," Jason replied, clenching his fist around the newspapers and picture.

"Yeah, but it upsets Terry and Timmy when you come in smelling like smoke and nicotine."

"Don't forget Cass and Steph," Barbara added, appearing from around the corner.

"Why don't you bring in the whole fucking family while you're at it!" Jason snapped, "I don't need an intervention. I'm good as is!"

"Obviously not," Dick replied.

Angrily he got to his feet, smashing the cigarette in his hand. A soft hiss escaped his lips as this action put the burning edge against his palm and burnt it. Somehow both Dick and Barbara missed this. Just as well, they were only doing this because Jason had upset Terry (and probably Tim as well) with his actions. This had nothing to do with them being worried about him. About how he was taking being dead and coming back to life. Business as usual.

"Jason," Barbara intervened, tone placating, "We're just worried about you okay?"

"If you say so," Jason replied, not believing a single sentence.

"You know what. No," Dick suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Jason's hand and tugging him, "I'm staging an intervention."

At first he tried to stay there, but soon he found himself dragged all the way back inside the house. They made their way to his room, it still the same as when he died as Jason could never convince himself to change it. His room was a reminder of who he used to be. The kid that he can never be again. Happy, somewhat easy going, and strong headed in a way only Damian seemed to compare too. A few things were different, like the posters on the wall had gained some and the bed had different sheets and covers.

"Sit," Dick ordered, "Barbara make sure he doesn't move."

Before Jason could argue, Dick disappeared outside his room. It was only the glare Barbara was sending him, daring him to do something, that kept him still. As much as he wished to escape, fighting against Barbara was not something he wished to do right now. Not only did he still crave her approval, she didn't deserve to be in the middle of this, it wasn't like she had abandoned him after he died. Then again, neither had his family really.

"Thanks Babs, I got it from here," Dick said, reappearing with Terry sleepily resting on his shoulder and Damian clinging to his hand.

The other three were behind him; Cass and Steph both clinging to one of Tim's hands. This was an intervention. There was no doubt about that. Otherwise why would all of his siblings be there in front of him, waiting silently. As though she knew this was a family matter, Barbara stepped backwards. While she wasn't an adopted sister (though technically neither was Tim, he just lived with them whenever his parents were away) she was still one of their bat siblings.

Surprisingly, all of his siblings joined him on the bed. Terry was set on his lap, made a face at the smell of the cigarettes, before cuddling up to him. Dick and Tim sat on either side of him, Damian settled comfortably on Dick's lap. Then Steph, Cass, and Barbara settled behind him. Cass rested her head on his shoulder, arms wound lightly around him. Steph had a hand on his upper arm and Barbara just leaned against him.

"We're staging an intervention," Dick announced, "Cause you can't get your head out of your butt."

"Dick…" Jason whined.

"Nope," Tim spoke up, "We love you and you either accept that or we're gonna make you."

"I'm the expendable sibling. I've died once already."

"Not expendable," Cass corrected him, "Love."

He couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. All this attention on him. It made him feel something that he couldn't describe. Something that he vaguely recognized and somewhat enjoyed. The embarrassment was helping to cover it up but something similar to hope and joy stirred just underneath the surface.

"I'm a monster," Jason argued.

"You're not a monster!" Steph exclaimed.

"Bwofew," Terry agreed.

"Yeah! You're our brother!" Dick exclaimed. "So stop dragging yourself into the mud over things that we don't care about!"

"I care about them! I killed Dick! I killed and I didn't feel any remorse… except the whole nearly killing Timmy," Jason winced at the last part.

"I forgave you a long time ago," Tim said, snuggling closer to him.

"You shouldn't have."

"I did."

His arguments were getting weaker. Any argument he could have said was getting shot down before he could have even said it. A warm feeling spread and he felt tears burn his eyes. None of them fell, he wouldn't allow it. It was a Bat thing. Something he should probably ignore, something he should stop doing. He knew none of his siblings would judge him if he did cry, if he showed emotion. They all did plenty of times.

"You called me a villain," Jason argued.

Dick winced. "You're not though. You're our brother. I don't care if you were a villain."

"If I was the Joker would you do the same?"

"But you're not!" Steph exclaimed.

"But if I was!"

"Tt, this argument is useless."

"Quiet Damian."

"Make me Drake!"

"Stop," Dick ordered, pulling Damian away from trying to launch himself at Tim.

"You're not the Joker," Barbara said, "And if you were we would help you and knock some sense into that thick skull of yours."

Despite his best efforts, Jason felt his lips quirk up. It was a miniscule thing, something that they only noticed because they were the Bats kids. Timmy gripped his arm tighter, grinning widely, while Terry continued to snuggle close to him. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he rose his eyes to look at Dick. The eldest of the group was grinning widely.

"I'm an idiot aren't I?" Jason asked.

"You're allowed to be an idiot, you're only seventeen," Dick replied, "I certainly was at that age."

"No arguments from me," Barbara agreed.

"I'm eighteen!" Jason exclaimed.

"Dead. Seveteen," Cass said.

"Do we count the year you were dead?" Steph asked, "If we do you'd be eighteen."  
"I don't," Dick said.

Huffing good naturally, Jason reclined backwards in his bed. One arm was still firmly wrapped around his littlest brother. The girls took this as a sign that they weren't needed anymore and filed out the room. However his brothers didn't take the cue and instead settled more comfortably around him.

"Replacement, your elbow is in my gut," Jason grumbled.

"That's Terry's foot," Tim replied, poking his side.

"Stop squirming," Damian ordered, "Tt, imbeciles."

"Dami!" Dick exclaimed.

"Thanks Dick," Jason said.

"What was that?"  
"Shut up you big boob." Jason poked his side, "I ain't repeating myself."

Dick squirmed away and stuck his tongue out. A grin quickly took over the olders face. Somehow Tim read what was going to happen before Jason did, as he easily stole Terry and slid off the bed. Taking his cue from Tim, Damian disappeared like the assassin he had been (before they found him and took him home) and Jason had what was about to happen slowly dawn on him.

Before he could react Dick was straddling his hips. Fingers danced along his sides, poking just the right spots to cause a laugh to escape his lips. A wide grin spread across his face as he hooked an ankle around Dick's, still getting tickled, before flipping their spots. Breathlessly, he grinned down at the surprised face of his older brother.

"Nice try Dickface," Jason snarked, "Gonna take more than that to take me down."

"AVENGE ME!" Dick exclaimed dramatically at their younger siblings.  
Giggling, Tim rushed out of the room with a sleepy Terry in his arms. The toddler was practically dozing in Tim's arms.

"You disappoint me Grayson," Damian announced before following Tim.

"HA!" Jason exclaimed.

The mood suddenly went sober, as Dick tugged Jason down besides him. Soon Jason found himself in a tight hug from his brother, still lying halfway down on the bed. It was easier just to let it happen and wait for Dick to let go. However he might as well get comfortable as that was going to be a while. A soft sigh escaped his lips and Dick rested his head on Jason's shoulder.

"Do you really feel like you're not part of the family?" Dick asked.

"Sometimes," Jason admitted reluctantly.

"Even when you were dead you were still apart of us," Dick told him.

For a while Jason was silent. Just trying to figure out how to word what he was feeling.  
"It's just… in all the pictures and newspaper clippings I got… you guys seemed happy. Like it wasn't affecting you at all that I died," Jason whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"For a while, almost as long as it took for you to come back to us, Terry would end up in your room. We couldn't figure out how but if he went missing we always found him there. In your closet, on your bed, just in your room. Tim would come in here sometimes, to talk to you instead of the suit in the case downstairs. Steph and Cass only came in here when they were really missing you, usually just sat right in the doorway," Dick said.

"And you?"

"I… I saw you everywhere in the house. In the library, sitting in your favorite chair curled up with a book that would make me fall asleep. At the dinner table, the empty seat right beside me. Even in the kitchen, remembering whenever you help Alfred with a new recipe. If it became to much I'd sit right here, on your bed, clutching that stupid red hoodie of yours that you wore so much."

"I like that red hoodie," Jason defended.

"Shut up. I'm trying to have a moment here."

"Sorry, would you like me to leave?"

"I hate you so much right now."

"Sorry, it was getting too serious in here."

Silence reigned between the two brothers. Jason just letting Dick lean against him and stare at the ceiling. It wasn't uncomfortable, just enjoying the company of each other. The warmth getting shared between them, the general comforting sense of the two sitting together. Eventually though the silence had to be broken.

"There were times someone would say something and I'd turn to see your reaction, only you weren't there," Dick whispered.

"I'm sure whatever it was, it was funny," Jason replied.

"You're my brother Jason, nothing's gonna change that."

"Nothing?"  
"Nothing."

"Not even the fact I put Nair in your shampoo?"

"JASON!"


End file.
